


Reckless

by SeriousPooBrain



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Humor, Swearing, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriousPooBrain/pseuds/SeriousPooBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob and his reckless, poorly laid plans leads to some cuteness</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my very first post here on AO3 so I hope you enjoy it. This is also posted on Tumblr, so if you see it there, it's just me. Enjoy! Feedback appreciated!

Reckless. That was the one polite word you were muttering under your breath as you ran down the cobblestone street. Your breath came in ragged pants, your chest heaving beneath the heavy jacket as you caught the sight of two Blighters on your trail. The distinct ring of a gunshot was enough for you to duck, covering your head with your hands as you unsuccessfully tried to avoid the potholes in the road. Stumbling through the one that finally got you, you scrambled to regain your footing as a large horse drawn cart pulled up alongside you.

“Jump in, love!” Jacob Frye’s charismatic voice rang clearly, a huge grin on his face.

Goddamn Frye and his reckless endeavors. Your father had warned you not to run with him and his sister; though it wasn’t Evie he had been concerned about – it was the male side of their little duo. Jacob’s reputation wasn’t exactly the spitting image of an upstanding citizen. Sure, he had a heart of gold, but damn did he not know how to go about things delicately, and that was exactly what had gotten you into this mess. That was the last time you would ever rush in head first into a factory filled with Blighters.

Grunting, you pushed yourself a little harder, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you took a deep breath and leaped. Your hands grasped desperately at the edge, finding purchase just as you were about to land face first into the cobblestones.

A large hand reached out, grabbing onto your arm as the cart swerved dangerously close to a building. “Jacob!” you yelped as you clung onto the arm, your feet scrabbling for purchase against the side of the cart. With a final heave, the cart edged away from the brick wall, and you tumbled head first into the bottom of the wooden wagon.

Thank God. Being splattered all over London’s streets was not in your plans today, and neither had being chased by the bloody Blighters. A frown came over your fine features as you shot Jacob a glare. Your eyes glittered unhappily as he threw you a sardonic grin - the same stupid grin that made you weak in the knees. Goddamn him.

“Hold on, darling, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” he shouted as he jerked on the right set of reins. The pair of solid bay mares whinnied their disapproval as their heads turned sharply, sending the wagon careening around the corner. The wood groaned and creaked under the pressure as all of the weight momentarily shifted to the left wheels. People shouted unhappily as the cart raced by, the poor horses’ necks lathered with sweat as they pulled with all of their might.

Shifting your weight against the swaying of the cart, you climbed carefully onto the driver’s bench beside Jacob, grabbing a hold of the seat to keep yourself from tumbling into the streets. His hazel eyes glimmered with mirth and excitement as a sharp turn threw you against him. Despite the soft fabric of his jacket, you could feel the strength of his muscles rippling beneath it as he instinctively held onto you. The familiar scent of leather, mint and beer nearly left you breathless, distracting as you were pitched the other way.

Why did he have to be so damn attractive? You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself staring at him when you should have been paying attention. There had always been the awkward times when your eyes met, and you had to quickly duck your head and look away as you blushed furiously. Jacob would always shoot you one of his charismatic grins, as if he could read your mind.

Shaking your head, you glanced back, relieved to see that there weren’t any Blighters close on your tail. “Jacob, I think we’ve lost them!” you shouted over the roar of the wind.

“Seems we have,” he replied gleefully as he turned another corner – this one with a little more grace.

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he eased back on the reins, drawing the horses down to a slower pace before eventually coming to a complete stop. You didn’t need to be told to get down as you staggered into a patch of grass not far from the street. Your legs didn’t seem to want to respond as you fought to stay upright, your stomach churning unhappily.

The relief, however, didn’t last long as your mind focused back onto what had just happened. Instead it was replaced with a mixture of anger and disbelief, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“What the bloody hell, Jacob?!” you exclaimed, turning to face him as he hopped down from the driver’s seat.

“I believe you should be thanking me. I just saved your life,” he drawled, patting the neck of the larger mare.

“You nearly got me killed!” you seethed, dusting off your jacket as you stalked unhappily around the pair of heaving horses. “They almost shot me!” You pointed exasperatedly in the direction from which you had come; your disheveled appearance only added to the dramatic look you were going for as you glared at him.

“Shh, love, you’re going to draw unnecessary attention,” he murmured as a few police officers glanced your way, their postures rigid as they tried to decide whether it was a slight lovers spat or a real problem they needed to deal with.

His hand gently grasped above your elbow as he dragged you into a nearby ally, bringing you up against him. As you opened your mouth to speak, he wrapped his arm around your waist and placed his index finger gently against your lips. Torn between anger and curiosity, you quieted down, instead opting to fix him with another glare.

“They didn’t shoot you, now did they?” he asked quietly.

“No thanks to you,” you growled low as you tried to push yourself off of his chest.

Instead his arms coiled tighter around you, hell bent on keeping you as close as he could manage. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, standing there pressed up against the young man was exhilarating. Your blood sang in your veins as his hands rested up against your back, their touch leaving tiny jolts of heat in their wake.

How many hearts have you broken, Mr. Frye? You couldn’t help but wonder.

“Now look here, you know bloody well that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he shot back.

Your brow creased in a frown, your lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. You didn’t trust him and his ‘plans’ any farther than you could throw him.

“Oh, don’t be like that, love. Come on, there’s a pub right down the street. Let’s go celebrate,” he purred as your frown deepened. “Or we could celebrate another way if you like,” he suggested, offering you another one of his charming smiles.

What a cheeky little shit he was.

“Hey, there they are!” a deep and aggressive voice rang out, pulling the both of you out of your little argument.

“Or maybe not. For good luck, darling,” Jacob said, gently pressing his slightly chapped lips to yours.

Your breath nearly left your chest as you hesitantly responded, moving your lips sweetly against his. His stubble scrapped your chin lightly, though it was the last thing on your mind as you relished the taste of him. The mint smell you had come to associate him with lightly danced along your tongue, numbing your mind to the imminent threat yards away.

You could feel his smirk against your lips, as he pulled away, his hazel eyes gleaming in the dim sunlight. His gaze darted to the Blighters closing in, that stupid cocky grin of his returning. “Race you to the train,” he said, winking at you as he took off to the side of the nearest building. His fingers gripped the stones expertly as he began to make the climb to the rooftops.

“Goddamn it, Frye,” you muttered under your breath as you took one last look at the Blighters before you followed the assassin up the wall. You weren’t going to let him win this time.


End file.
